


Meat Lovers

by abstractsatanism



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: ANYWAYS-, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Cock Warming, Crack Treated Seriously, Dirty Talk, Dream Has Sex With The Pizza Delivery Guy, M/M, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Service Top, Size Difference, Size Kink, Strength Kink, i cant believe thats not a tag??, idiots to lovers, ik it sounds like a joke i promise its not a joke fic sdjhadjkashlka, once again mild, only mentioned but still it was hot, the author feels crazy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:35:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29650032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abstractsatanism/pseuds/abstractsatanism
Summary: “Is it the uh,” Dream starts again, looking down at the countertop in front of him, “the large? With uh, extra sausage?”George once again looks down at the receipt, “Um yeah? Extra sausage.”Why does he feel so weird right now?“It’s $11.99 still.”Dream starts walking from behind the counter. For such a physically intimidating guy, he looks sosmallright now. George would have to be an idiot to miss the obvious way Dream’s hands were shaking.“I actually don’t-“ Dream says, taking a few deep breaths, “I don’t have any cash on me right now. Do you accept like,alternativeforms of payment?”Everything fucking clicks all at once in George’s brain.This guy is actually propositioning him right now. For a fucking pizza.And he’s not even being smooth about it.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 96
Kudos: 902
Collections: how tf do i find this





	Meat Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> DREAMWASTAKEN MY BELOATHED!!!!!
> 
> absolutely 100% inspired by whatever the fuck that latest dream short was. holy shit. this is a stain on my ao3 account. fun fact! some dialog was actually directly ripped from the video because dream is providing me free material BY GOD am i gonna take it
> 
> dedicated to dreamwastaken himself because obviously he was some stuff he needs to work out

George hated suburbia, the neatly trimmed grass lawns blending in together far too much to be anything but disorienting. He always despised the neat little rows of one story houses and endless winding streets, would avoid them all together if it weren’t for his shitty job.

George _also_ hates the smell of pizza. He didn’t used to, he remembered when he first dropped off his resume at the little family-owned pizza place down the street, the smell of freshly cooked dough and melting cheese was mouthwatering. Now, he has to restrain himself from puking every time he gets into his car, relishes in the fact that he’ll soon be home and washing out the nauseating smell from his hair.

It had been a long day of driving back and forth from the restaurant to the neighborhoods on the outskirts of his university and back and forth and back again, and George really just wanted to go home and jack off. He deserves it, he thinks, after being yelled at by a group of sorority girls and almost eaten alive by a dog and forced to haggle with several customers over the price of a pizza _that they had already agreed to pay for the bastards-_

Long story short George just wants to drop off this pizza and get the fuck back to his apartment.

His phone finally leads him to the end of a familiar cul de sac, in the same general area that George knows a bunch of the fraternities have their satellite houses. _Great, a bunch of fucking frat boys_.

George has to hug the box close to his chest, cold air sending violent shivers throughout his body the second he steps out of his car. He had no idea moving to Florida would be this _cold_ , initially refused to pack any of his winter coats during the move from England. He feels like an idiot now, though, holding a rancid smelling meat lovers pizza to his chest, fully aware that it’s definitely deforming itself inside of the box.

He tries to ring the doorbell with one of his elbows, definitely _does not_ cry out in frustration when he realizes it’s broken. _No doorbell_ means _knocking_ , and _knocking_ means letting go of the edible heater in his hands.

George opts to kick the door instead, professionalism be fucked. The guy probably won’t even tip anyway.

There’s the telltale sound of someone running through the house before the door violently swings open, forcing George to focus on the tall blonde at the door instead of zoning out into the wall like he so desperately wants.

“Oh hello!” said blonde leans against the door. His eyes dart quickly from all around George’s face, to his shoulders, down to the pizza box in his hands. It’s kind of unnerving, if George is being honest. But this wouldn’t be the first high-out-of-his-mind customer he’s had to deal with. “You’re the pizza man?”

_Why does he sound so fucking weird about it?_

“One meat lover’s pizza for-“ he looks down at the receipt taped to the box, “Dream?”

The man- Dream- chuckles, “Yeah that’s me!”

He looks at George like he’s expecting him to ask about the absolutely fucking _bizarre_ name he called in on the order. George, for the $8 an hour he’s being paid, could not care less if he tried.

“Can you, um,” he starts, after _several_ minutes of what’s not even the most awkward silence of George’s day, “can you come in for a minute? I guess I left my wallet somewhere.”

George has the distinct, unshakable feeling that he’s about to be killed and his body buried somewhere too close to the tree line.

 _Guess that means I won’t have to come into work tomorrow_.

The house is leagues warmer than the late night air outside, but George stays by the door because, _serial killer, duh_. Dream, for his part, does seem to be actually looking for his wallet, running around the kitchen and opening drawers like he would’ve placed his credit card next to his glassware.

“I recognize you,” Dream’s voice calls out, from where he’s currently ducked behind his island, “you TA-ed for Dr. Clark last semester, right?”

_How the hell?_

“Um yeah. Were you in that class?”

“Yeah I was!” Dream pops up from behind the island, reminding George too much of one of those whack-a-mole machines, idly wants to take a mallet and whack him back down so he’ll stop _looking at him like that_ , a little too bright and a little too… _warm_. “I’m an English major, but I’ve always been interested in coding so I thought that I would just take a few CS class before I graduated!”

“That’ll be $11.99,” George says, purely to avoid the bright-eyed smile Dream’s shooting him from across the room, feels like punching himself when the smile drops a fraction of a second later.

“Is it the uh,” Dream starts again, looking down at the countertop in front of him, “the large? With uh, extra sausage?”

George once again looks down at the receipt, “Um yeah? Extra sausage.” _Why does he feel so weird right now?_ “It’s $11.99 still.”

Dream starts walking from behind the counter. For such a physically intimidating guy, he looks so _small_ right now. George would have to be an idiot to miss the obvious way Dream’s hands were shaking.

“I actually don’t-“ Dream says, taking a few deep breaths, “I don’t have any cash on me right now. Do you accept like, _alternative_ forms of payment?”

Everything fucking clicks all at once in George’s brain.

_This guy is actually pretending to propositioning him right now. For a fucking pizza._

_And he’s not even being smooth about it._

George has _absolutely_ had his fair share of people trying to recreate pizza delivery guy sex fantasies with him, up until this point it had mostly been slightly tipsy sorority girls being filmed by their giggling friends on a dare.

 _None of them_ had ever looked like Dream, tall and blonde with broad shoulders and a sharp jawline, at least an entire head taller than him and fucking _intimidating_ to look at. But also somehow refusing to make eye contact with him, staring at his shaking hands on his kitchen island, so red in the face that George would be convinced he was running a fever if he didn’t know any better.

 _None of them_ had even been George’s type _to the fucking letter_. None of them has ever made George feel as hot and overwhelmed as the awkward, handsome stranger standing ten feet away from him.

George face grows hot, he feels like the universe is playing some kind of joke on him for quitting his cushy TA job and being forced to deliver pizza to- apparently cruel and homophobic- frat boys like Dream. Why he would be forced to go be _so close_ to something he wants _so badly_ , only for it to be all some kind of stupid scheme frankly makes George feel violent.

“Are you making fun of me or something?” George asks, walking over to place the pizza on Dream’s counter, “because if you are that’s a pretty sick joke. Just pay for your fucking pizza and you can tell everyone you fucked your TA, or whatever.”

“No, shit wait, it’s not like that-“

“Then what’s it like!” George shouts at him, hot tears of embarrassment building up behind his eyes, “You though you would recite some lines from a shitty porno, get me to ask you to suck my dick, then tell all your friends to shit talk me at your next frat party or something?”

“George, wait, just listen to me-“

“And how do you even know my fucking name, you psychopath!”

“You were my TA last semester it’s not that weird!”

“We’ve never even interacted!”

“That doesn’t mean I wasn’t fucking into you!”

George stops. Somewhere in the middle of the argument, he had grabbed hold of the pizza box and crushed its edges with his white-knuckled grip. “What do you mean?”

Dream had lost his self-conscious posturing, too. Instead of a shy, awkward guy looking out of place in his own kitchen, Dream looked frantic, on edge, gesturing wildly between the two of them and taking up more space than George knew how to deal with. “You, one time you, like, passed out a quiz, and I totally fucking _bombed_ it because I kept thinking about how hot you are.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s true!” Dream nearly yells, moving around the island to get closer to him, “I see you on campus all the time. I constantly think about going up and saying something, but like, everything I think of sounds _so stupid_ in my head so I never do.”

 _This is bullshit_ , is the only thing George can possibly think right now. “And so you, what? Saw me delivering your pizza and though ‘well now’s as good of a time as ever!’”

“Um,” Dream’s closer now, George feels the unshakable urge to slap him, “not exactly. You know Sapnap?”

“Yeah, we work together.” George thinks about the socially awkward frat boy the restaurant had hired as a waiter a few weeks after George, how he turned out to be a fucking _menace_ after George had said all of five words to him.

“He’s, uh, he’s my roommate. He- he like, he knows that I’m into you, or whatever, so he like, helped me out. With the pizza thing. Made sure you were the one to deliver it, I guess.”

 _I’m gonna kill him_ , George thinks. He wonders if you can sue a coworker for secondhand sexual harassment.

“And then you asked me if there was _extra sausage_ on the pizza?”

“To be honest I didn’t actually think I’d get this far,” Dream’s blushing again, less this time, but a vast improvement from the cliché pick-up lines from a few minutes ago. George thinks it suits him, a little flustered with a smile that reads like he’s a little too sure of himself. Wants to kiss it off Dream’s stupid face.

 _Okay no, not going there_.

“The pizza’s still $11.99, asshole. And you better tip for making me put up with you.”

“Are you seriously gonna tell me you don’t want me too?”

_What?_

“What?” George’s world feels like it’s spinning, Dream’s going to give him motion sickness with how quickly he’s plucking him out of one conversation and into the next. “Of course I’m not into you! Just pay for the pizza!”

“You’re blushing.”

George wants to stamp his foot into the ground, the fucking _nerve_ of this guy, “Because you’re an idiot.”

“You’re also half hard.”

_Fuck._

Oops.

George will take this to his _fucking grave_ if he has to, but Dream is _ridiculously_ attractive. And maybe having a hot guy saying he’s been into him for months _did_ something for George, okay? Maybe believing that he has a chance with this guy was making him excited, or something.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

Dream hums. He circle’s George, walks right in front of him and forces George to look him in the eyes. George is spinning with it, Dream’s pupils already look so blown, his hands are twitching at his sides like he’s aching to _touch_ and it’s all so much all at once-

“You said you would ask me to blow you,” Dream’s so close, he’s so _maddeningly_ close to George but he’s towering over him, making the distance feel fucking _impossible_ , “I’d do it, if you asked.”

George feels funny, like he’s going to be sick, or like the second Dream touches him his skin is going to light on _fire_ , “Wha-“

“You can say no, obviously,” Dream says, tension laced back into his words, takes a step away from George on instinct, “You can totally say no if this thing is too weird and I’ll never bother you about it again.”

George takes the few extra inches between them to catch his breath. He feels fuzzy, like he’s not in his body right now, like he’s not in his body but he’s so _painfully_ in his body that the dichotomy of it is pulling him in every direction and he doesn’t know which way is up-

“Um,” Dream’s backing away even farther from him now, “I’ll go like, get my wallet from my room-“

“Idiot,” is the only word George breathes out before grabbing Dream by the collar of his shirt and kissing the stupid out of him.

George can’t help but think how _nice_ it feels to have Dream be the one caught off guard for a few moments, so George holdS him here, free to tilt his head the way he wants and tries to lick his way into Dream’s mouth, wants to feel his tongue against him so badly.

It doesn’t last. Dream seems to catch on only seconds, starts kissing George back like he’s trying to devour him, like he’s a pent up ball of energy that’s just been unleashed and his only focus is _George_. Dream holds his head in between his hands and presses him closer, like every second of _delicious_ contact between them is euphoria.

Dream breaks the kiss, keeps his hold on George’s head when he tries to push towards Dream’s lips for more. “Do you want me to blow you George? Yes or no?”

George feels like _crying_ , he wants to be kissed again. Dream’s cruel, he’s so _fucking_ cruel for making George stop, feels empty without Dream’s mouth over his own. But images in his head of Dream pushing him into the counter and kissing him silly are intercut with images of Dream below him, on his knees, with his dick in his mouth-

“Please-“ it was an easy decision to make, all being said, “ _Please_ Dream, I want it.”

Dream smiles, a little too viscous for the way he sinks to his knees in front of him. Even though he’s busy working open his jeans, he’s keeping eye contact with George the entire time. He wants to look away, wants to escape the intensity of Dream’s stare, wants to at least fucking _blink_ , but the way Dream’s looking at him?

He could get addicted to this. He thinks part of him already is.

“Don’t worry, Georgie,” his dick is already out of underwear, when did his dick get out of his underwear? “I’ll take care of you.”

His breath is so _warm_ on his dick, George is squirming already, he’s so pent up and he’s barely been touched, he feels insane, feels like he’s absolutely losing his mind. “Are you gonna pay for the pizza, too?”

Dream laughs, but with the way he’s mindlessly stroking up and down George’s dick, George fails to see the humor in the situation. All he feels is on edge, completely at Dream’s mercy, waiting for him to _shut the fuck up with this weird wheeze laugh and get his mouth on his cock-_

The wet heat of Dream _finally_ taking him into his mouth is so good, it’s everything he’s wanted. He doesn’t know when he’d gone completely tense, but Dream’s gentle bobbing around George and the smallest bit of suction he creates on the upstroke has his body _melting_. He feels like jelly, like Dream could do whatever he wants to him. Like how Dream’s wrapping his _stupidly fucking big_ hands around George’s ass and squeezing, and it’s so good it’s so good he hasn’t felt this good in _forever-_

Whenever George has little one off flings with the painfully closeted guys he meets at parties, he always ends up being the one on his knees. He doesn’t mind, the sick little twisted part of his head _likes it_ when guys twice his size would hold his head between his hands and use him like he was just a pretty mouth.

But Dream is like a _god_ on his knees before him, wrapping his lips around him and forcing George to thrust into him mouth by the grip on his ass. The thought of it is maddening, he’s never felt this close this _quick_ before.

There’s an obscene popping sound when Dream briefly pulls off of him, one hand still jerking George off in front of his face. George thinks he can finish like this, inches away from Dream’s mouth, wants to see what it looks like with his come splattered on Dream’s tongue-

But his other hand is reaching into his mouth, tongue wrapping around his fingers, pulls that out his mouth with the same popping sound as before.

 _There covered in spit_ , George thinks to himself, _God is he going to_ -

He does, evidently. It’s like he can hear the frantic thoughts rattling around in George’s fogged up brain, because Dream puts his mouth back onto the head of George’s cock, _sucks_ harder than he ever has the same time one spit covered finger enters George’s hole.

He feels so fucking _full_ and it’s only one finger holy shit-

Dream’s bobbing up and down now at a pace _completely_ separate to the speed of his finger trusting in and out of George. It’s driving him insane; he doesn’t know when to thrust forward and when to grind back, constantly stuck in an awkward combination of the two, feeling too much and not enough at the same time.

He cries out when Dream adds a second finger, it feels like _four_ of his own. Dream still has one hand gripping his ass, idly pulling it apart and letting go to feel it move beneath him. When he pulls off of George to start licking at his too sensitive head, George goes stiff and swears he sees white-

“Not yet.”

George groans, every inch of Dream that had been previously wrapped around him is gone. George shivers when the cold air hits the cooling spit on his dick, tries so badly to move forward and get Dream’s mouth back on him.

“Come on, Georgie, you know you want me to fuck you.”

 _Fuck_ holy shit yes he does. Just the though of Dream’s cock, which is probably fucking _huge,_ forcing him open and filling him up almost sends him back over the edge.

George nods his head in confirmation, has to close his eyes so he doesn’t see the knowing smirk he knows is plastered _all over_ Dream’s ugly face-

They shoot open again when he feels one (warm, strong, _big_ ) hand grip his thigh and open him up, sees Dream press their foreheads together as he pants into George’s mouth, gathers the courage to look down.

He was right, Dream is fucking _big_.

He looks so _hard_ it’s almost painful, his cock flushed almost more purple than anything else, one of Dream’s hands moving up and down himself so fast and _god_ what George wouldn’t give to feel that, feel Dream’s hand wrapped around himself and stroking so fast his legs would give out.

Suddenly both of Dream’s hands are covering his thighs and picking him _up, up, holy shit this guy is tall_ leaving George no room to do anything but hold onto Dream’s neck for dear life. One of his hands is more slippery than the other, obviously covered in lube that he got from _fuck knows where_. Dream’s walking them over to the front door, and George would normally have the capacity to be a little concerned about that if he couldn’t feel Dream’s dick brush against his own with every step.

George’s back hits the cool weight of the door at the same time that Dream leans down to kiss him again, the only thing keeping him up being Dream’s grip on his thighs. George feels like he’s losing it, hurriedly goes to take off his _hideous_ uniform shirt while he revels in the facts that _Dream’s just fucking holding him there like it’s nothing_.

“Are you ready?” Dream breathes into his mouth. George has to look away with how vulnerable he looks, wants to kick himself when he thinks about Dream looking at him like _that_ while they walk together to class or pick up groceries or wake up next to each other-

“Fuck, Dream, yes, I’m ready, you asshole, I’ve been ready for like half an hour and you’re honestly kind of being a dick about this entire thing-“

The stretch of Dream entering him is nothing but _delicious_ , George hasn’t felt like this in so long, so warm and full and on edge and being looked at like he’s made this guys entire _life_. Dream uses gravity to help pull George’s ass flush with his thighs, and by the time he does George is _shaking_ with want, he doesn’t know how he’s been able to go this long without this beautiful boy above him and inside of him and all around him.

Dream’s first thrusts are slow and strong, pulling out of him slowly and pressing back in like he’s trying to go deeper inside of him every time, like somehow the skin of George’s ass and Dream’s thighs will give way to connect them deeper together. He picks up quickly, grabbing George by the waist and forcing him to come down the same time Dream thrusts upwards, accidently catching on George’s prostate in the process.

The cry George lets out feels like it was ripped straight out of his throat, all of his nerves lighting up and firing up at the same time.

“Does that feel good?” Dream asks, so much less _smug_ than George thought he would be, looking at him with his big, blown out green eyes and thrusting up in the same spot harder.

 _No!_ George wants to lie, to snark at him and regain some of his rapidly slipping control, _No I don’t feel good asshole, it’s like you’re barely fucking me and you’re dick is small and this pace is ridiculous-_

But Dream’s looking down at him so sweetly, his mouth hanging open and gasping on air, hands clenching so tight around George that there’s definitely going to be bruises tomorrow, _god_ the thought of waking up tomorrow and having Dream press into bruises that take the exact fucking size as his hands-

“Yes, feels so good Dream,” George pants out, he feels so out of breath he’s so close he’s been this close for _ages_ , “you feel so good Dream, _fuck_.”

Dream’s entire face lights up, eyes getting even bigger, somehow. He moans out, hold’s George even _tighter_ and pushes him harder against the wall, uses the leverage to his advantage as he fucks him harder and deeper and _faster_.

“Do you like- _fuck-_ do you like when I tell you how good of a job you’re doing? You’re making me feel so good, Dream. You fill me up so fucking _well_ , you’re so fucking huge and warm inside of me.”

Dream is close, George can feel it in the absolutely erratic way he’s fucking into him. To his credit, George is close too, word’s coming out more like intelligible babble than actual words, just wants Dream to know how _good_ he feels, how good of a job that Dream’s doing of making him feel like this.

“You feel so _big_ and I’m never gonna get enough of it,” George wants to scream, settles for panting into Dream’s ear like his life depends on it, “wanna feel you in me all the time, wanna keep myself open for you all the time. Wanna just- _fuck-_ wanna just sit down on your cock while we watch a movie, just to feel you inside of me. Wanna shift around and feel you tense up, wanna just keep you tied up while I bounce on your cock-“

Dream moans so loudly it leaves George’s ears _ringing_ , “Wanna, Georgie please, want keep you-“

George’s breath is caught in his throat. He can’t move, his head stings from where it slammed against the wall, his fingers feel numb and shaky and he can’t _breathe_ and Dream is wrapping his huge hand around his cock and stroking it so fast his eyes can’t keep up.

“ _Dream_ I wanna keep you too, want you to make me come and wanna keep you-“

Dream’s nearly violent when he comes, bites down onto George’s neck and thrusts into him so hard he thinks they’ll break the door, still stroking George fast enough it pushes him over the edge too.

He’s shaking with how hard he comes, feels like he’s fucking _vibrating_ , feels like someone shocked every part of his brain and kept it going. George feels like he’s on _fire_ , feels Dream’s come filling him up and his hands on his ass and his teeth in his neck and nothing else except _pleasure_ and _warmth_ and _fucking incredible_.

Dream is shaking too, but has the decency to pull out of George gently and slowly lower him onto the ground. The motion causes some of Dream’s come to spill out of George and land on the ground, and George is just far enough on the other side of his _frankly incredible_ orgasm to think about how gross that is.

Dream’s definitely not thinking about having to clean up his dried up come from off the floor later, because he’s looking at George with the dopiest, most blissed out grin George has ever _seen_ , and if George hadn’t spent the last half hour between him and a door then he would’ve found it annoying.

 _Instead he just finds it stupidly, stupidly endearing_.

Dream grabs his hand and leads him into the kitchen, where he wets a paper towel (fucking _frat boys_ do they not even own cloth towels??) and uses it to clean in between George’s legs. The action feels far too intimate, far to familiar to be comfortable, but then again, maybe Dream is just like that.

 _Or maybe Dream is just like that with George_.

Dream throws the towel away, goes back to look at George with his _stupid fucking smile_ and George hates him, hates that he wants to kiss the grin off his stupid _face_.

“I meant it,” Dream says, still smiling, so much less nervous than the last time he confessed here, standing in nearly the same position, “I do wanna like, keep you and stuff-“

“’Keep me’? I’m not an object Dream,” George scoffs, even though he _definitely_ knows that’s not what Dream meant, doesn’t want to think of what he’s actually implying unless Dream spells it out for him-

“No I know!” Dream’s so cute when he’s flustered, “I meant like, I’d like to take you out, sometime, if that’s okay.”

George pretends to think on it for a second, just to see Dream squirm, doesn’t want Dream to know the way that those words make him feel like he’s falling through the floor.

“I mean, you could start with the $11.99 you owe on the pizza.”

Dream doubles over in laughter, grips the countertop as he wheezes hot breath across it. George wonders if he’s ever passed out doing that, it _definitely_ doesn’t sound like any air is getting to Dream’s _fat fucking head_.

Dream leans in to kiss him, still laughing too loudly to be serious about it, more so just pressing their mouths together and drinking up George’s own broken giggles.

“Yeah I can pay for the pizza. Do I still have to tip you after that?”

“OF COURSE YOU STILL HAVE TO TIP! WERE YOU RAISED IN A BARN?”

**Author's Note:**

> um yeah. so. yeah.
> 
> i do sincerely hope you enjoyed, i enjoyed writing this WAY too much ok? like i genuinely enjoyed writing this it was so fun.
> 
> please leave a kudos and maybe even a comment if you enjoyed? im still getting back to all the comments on [In A Crowded Room](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29601417) (which i wrote a few days ago and i would love if you checked out!). all the support really does mean the world :D
> 
> also once again cuck fic coming soon ;)
> 
> oh almost forgot! im gays4thebloodgod on tumblr if you want to yell at me about treating pizza delivery man sex seriously


End file.
